Liberosis
by LimoneSnake
Summary: -n. The desire to care less about things. Did he make the right decision, he wonders; leaving Fenris behind. Because it easily feels like the worst decision he'd ever made in his life. And his cold bed in Skyhold is not making him feel any better about it. [MHawke x Fenris during the Inquisition timeline]


A what-might-be for my RP with Aaerowyn on Elysium.  
>Because Inquisition decreed that Fenris be banned from Skyhold. (Though, it's not character breaking for Hawke to leave the elf-)<br>Anyways, I wanted to try my hand again at writing.  
>If you have any questions, don't hesitate and ask.<br>Reviews and suggestions are more than welcome.

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><p>"<em>Leaving was the hardest thing I've ever done."<br>_  
>Many days ago, when Kirkwall still stood in rickety balance; these very words were spoken by another. As he said it now, over an empty tankard of ale did the weary Kirkwall Champion realize there was no forgiveness to be had in his glass bottom. The bard's song could not drown his sorrow, nor could the laughter of the Inquisition's forces pierce through the mantle of hurt he wore. Varric was silent, seated across the table from his own. And though the rest of the tavern was in a mood to be merry did both men wore faces lined with pain. Hawke's even more so as he finished divulging the things he'd done to reach this point in life where he could honestly say, death is welcome.<p>

It has been a day since he arrived, a hooded figure crossing Skyhold's bridge. Hardly something to pay attention to considering the numerous pilgrims whose feet had scrubbed the cold stones clean as they passed. Unlike the pilgrims however, this one had stealthily approached a refugee child instead of the soldiers at the gates, slipping a piece of silver that the boy would summon Master Tethras. Hardly ten minutes had passed before his friend's familiar frame was seen stealing down the stairs, suspicious in his approach, enough to crack a smirk on the champion's freezing lips. They did not tarry, and up the closest stairs to the gate did the two climb once more, Varric leading his friend directly to the tavern that greeted them as soon as they reached the top.

Hawke drew his hood lower down upon his face, wary of the men that called out to the famous author now turned Inquisition member. It would not do for anyone to recognize him, not before he meets the Inquisitor; and as the dwarf refused the drinks offered did the fallen champion ascend the rickety stairs to the less crowded second floor. Only when he had the shadows of the tavern's corner walls to wear did he shed his hood, his face immediately breaking into a familiar smile when he saw Varric return. "Is the limelight too bright for you, Varric?" he teased, reaching for the tankard the dwarf offered him. "Not when it's green and prone to spitting out demons, Hawke," rasped the rogue, drawing a wider grin from his old friend.

Garrett Hawke swallowed a heated gulp of his gifted poison, sighing as the heat carved a deep path down his throat. He needed that, the trek up the mountains had been a hard one, his goal pursued with little to no respite. The winds had buffeted him like a dingy in the storm, had nearly frozen him to his death had he not cheated with fire magic. He'd received Varric's letter over four days ago, and though Kirkwall was just across Ferelden's Storm Coast did he find himself hurrying, running. Not to Skyhold, but from something else; someone who was now most likely decapitating slavers with Hawke's face in mind. "Where's the broody elf? Late or-" "Never. I asked him, well… tricked him into staying behind in Kirkwall." The admission had Varric's brow rising; only now taking in the sheer fatigue and weariness that draped Hawke's shoulder with iron weight.

"And how alive are you?" The dwarf asked, his question light and teasing though his eyes were as serious as the day Bartrand betrayed them. "Dead. But better me than Fenris. I do not think there could be anything worse than seeing him die. But hark! I'm not here to share my broken love affair, not yet. Corypheus… we killed him. Fenris turned him into mincemeat, rather happily. But you say he's back." "Yeah, alive and churning Thedas through a meat grinder as we speak. The son of a bitch was either a good actor or immortal. The Seeker's been hounding my ass ever since he showed up, asking me over and over again if we were really sure he was dead last we saw him."

The dwarf's tone was just as weary as the mage. Though Varric made light of it, obviously Corypheus' non-death sat on his shoulders as heavily as it sat on the Champion's. "Well, where's this Inquisitor of yours and why haven't I been introduced yet? He may want to hear what I've discovered on my way here. It's not good news, but at least it's news." His words seemed to perk the rogue from his own deep thoughts and after they've drained their drinks did Varric drag Hawke upstairs, leading him atop the battlements sprawling around Skyhold. The raven did not notice the silent figure in the corner, but Varric did and with a shake of his head did he stall the young man from approaching them. He knew how badly Hawke was hurting, enough to attract Cole's attention it seems.

The Champion walked along the high walls, eyes cast upon the castle grounds beneath. There was an endless stream of people, soldiers, mages and templars; each going about their daily tasks. And though the cold assaulted him from all sides did the raven find his heart growing lighter. The Inquisitor had a good thing going here, and as he secretly watched from his high roost did he find himself feeling more and more happy that he'd showed up. These people, they all had faith in their leader. Herald or not, the man obviously knew how to keep his promises… a far cry from Kirkwall's champion.

It's been, what, Nearly three years since they left Kirkwall? He and his friends had ran from the city, fearful of the Divine's reaction. If ever the Chantry did decide to march upon the City of Chains, Hawke had hoped that they would instead dedicate their forces to searching for his and Anders' ass. The healer he'd returned to Vigil's Keep, of course. Where the Rite of Conscription and the Warden Commander could best protect him. Fenris and most of their friends did their best to convince him that the mage deserved less, but Hawke would not be moved from his decision. Whatever it was Anders did, he was still a friend.

Was, being the key word. Nowadays, the raven often found himself regretting what mercy he'd given the healer. He and Fenris, on Isabela's expense and ship; had found themselves ghosting through Antiva, Rivain; then Tevinter. Their experience in the Imperium, was trying, to say the least. Both men were pushed to their extents, and only in each other did they find the strength to continue their journey. Until finally they reached Seheron, in hopes that Fenris can start forgiving himself for what he did to the Fog Warriors that protected him. Needless to say, the island; despite its beauty; proved far too dangerous to both mage and warrior. They were caught in a volcanic eruption, stranded on an uninhabited island until finally they managed to craft a boat to take them to the nearest village.

Hawke smiled fondly at the memories, turning his hand to let the sun glint off the facets of his ring. It's been a long time since it was first given to him, but as always; he couldn't help the dopey smile that spread his lips as he gazed upon it. Fenris, everytime he caught that dumb expression on Hawke's face would sigh in frustration before dragging the raven back to his previous task. The elf may act frustrated, but always there'd be a small quirk to his lips when he thought his lover was not looking.

Garrett was startled by a low admiring whistle, making the raven turn with a smug grin. "Broody gave you that rock?" asked the dwarf. "Stole it off a magister's hand on an Imperial slave ship. I caught him with it and stumbled him into a proposal. He'd been sitting on the idea for a good long while, must have prepared a speech too or something, he wouldn't say. He managed to stick his foot in his mouth though. It was just like him." At this point, he expected Varric to start laughing, but as he turned to the dwarf did he catch an almost tender expression on his non-bearded face. "About time," was all the rogue could say, rendering Hawke silent when he realized that Varric was genuinely about to cry for him. The Champion managed a half smile of his own, gesturing to the rogue for a much-needed hug.

"I really wish you'd brought Fenris, Hawke. Seeing you now, it's obvious you're not really you without him." The mage's warm chuckle was the same as always at least, a comfort to Varric's own ailing heart. "To think you'd rather see him more than me, I'm not sure if I should be insulted or pleased." "Nah, I just think you're the stupidest man this side of Thedas. You're acting as though you've said your goodbyes to Fenris." At his own words did Varric's expression turn dark, his eyes accusatory as he stepped back to read the champion's face. "Hawke, don't tell me-"

"Ah, I think that's your Inquisitor now, isn't it?"


End file.
